


Mercy Me

by sinuous_curve



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:12:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinuous_curve/pseuds/sinuous_curve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When Darcy was a sophomore she went to Amsterdam for spring break, got incredibly drunk with a trio of hot Dutch grad students, and ended up spending the night handcuffed to the bed while they took turns eating her out until she literally couldn't feel her legs. The next morning she woke up sandwiched between two of them with bruises on her wrists and a cat who got the canary grin on her face that she couldn't get rid of.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mercy Me

**Author's Note:**

> Sweet, shameless self-indulgence.

When Darcy was a sophomore she went to Amsterdam for spring break, got incredibly drunk with a trio of hot Dutch grad students, and ended up spending the night handcuffed to the bed while they took turns eating her out until she literally couldn't feel her legs. The next morning she woke up sandwiched between two of them with bruises on her wrists and a cat who got the canary grin on her face that she couldn't get rid of.

She asked one of the hot Dutch grad students, Lia, if they often molested American undergrads and Lia shrugged philosophically and said it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Darcy ended up eating her out on the kitchen counter while the other two slept.

That was five years and whole slew of way weirder shit ago. Darcy has a security clearance now, and a technical title as consultant to the S.H.I.E.L.D initiative. Which maybe, sorta, kinda translates to Thor was going to bring lightning down on their heads if they really thought that keeping Jane away from him was a good idea and Jane looking that Nick Fury dude in the eye and saying Darcy came too and that was that.

“I used to want to be a professor,” Darcy says one night, sitting on her kitchen counter in her underwear and a tank top. She thinks about Lia the hot Dutch grad student, and her little daisy and grins.

Sif, standing there completely fuck off naked with her hair falling over her shoulders and predatory little smirk on her face, arches an eyebrow. “Do you have regrets?”

“You know, not really.” Sif pushes into the bracket of Darcy's legs. “Yeah, I'm going to have to go with no.”

Darcy had been moved into her brand spanking new government sanctioned apartment when Sif showed up in her Asgardian armor. Which is at least half of why Darcy let her in and maybe sixty percent of how fast her panties ended up hanging off the brand new government sanctioned lamp. She hoped there weren't secret cameras when Sif pushed her against the wall, and then sort of hoped there were when Sif's fingers slid inside her so the moment would be recorded for posterity.

“I am glad,” Sif says. “I would miss the touch of your skin if you left to professor.”

She traces her fingers along Darcy's spine to the hem of her top, and easy lifts it up and off. Darcy's nipples go tight at the skim of fabric and the way her tits bounce. “I would totally miss it, too.” Darcy manages to sound like she's only maybe half-dead from lust instead of so wet thinks maybe death is the next stop because god _damn_. “Your skin, I mean. You touching my skin. Our skin touching. Whatever, you know what I mean and I really think you should keep it up.”

Sif laughs low and amused, and slides her hands beneath Darcy's ass. “As you command.” She lifts Darcy up like she's not a hundred sixty pounds of voluptuous sex bomb and carries her through the living room and into Darcy's bedroom. They're on the third bed frame in the last four months because when Asgardian warrior maidens come their brains out sometimes the furniture doesn't survive. Darcy literally wanted to die from embarrassment the first time; now she just slaps a high five with the moving men, because damn right.

Sif tosses her onto the mattress and Darcy shimmies out of her panties as fast as she can without flopping on her face like a demented fish. “Come here, come here,” she demands. “I'm literally going to die if you don't touch me.”

“You are impatient,” Sif says.

“You are a goddess,” Darcy counters. “Literally.”

Sif smiles. “I am that.” She ties her hair into a knot at the nape of her neck and looks consideringly at Darcy, laying on the bed her weight on her elbows and her legs sprawled open. “Goddesses are meant to be worshipped.”

“I will worship your immortal brain out of your ears,” Darcy promises earnestly.

“That is good worship,” Sif nods. “But I can be capricious, you understand. And I have demands.”

Darcy feels like she might well explode. Or die. Or both, God – if everyone will pardon the pun – only knows. And still the weight of Sif's knowing eyes moving over her skin makes a whole different kind of hot and heavy start thrumming through her system. “And what, might I ask, would those be?”

Sif's grin is positively fucking predatory. “Do as I say, mortal girl. And the rewards will be great.”

“I.” It takes Darcy a minute to scrape herself off the floor. “I am totally okay with that.”

“Good.” Sif straightens to her full height and lifts her chin so she suddenly looks the kind of goddess that could lead armies against a legion of fairy tale monsters and cut a swathe through them with berserker bloodlust singing in her blood. It's so hot. “On your knees.”

Darcy scrambles to obey. The bounce of the mattress unsteadies her a little bit, but she manages. Sif eyes her appreciatively. “Hands behind your head. I like my tributes well-displayed.”

The pose reminds her a little bit of being nine, stuffing her shirt with tissues, and walking around with her ribs thrust out so her fake boobs looked as big as possible. (By eleven, when her actual tits were twice as big as any other girl in class she looked back on those memories a little bitterly, but came back around to appreciating her cleavage’s magical powers right about her third day of college.)

Sif cups one her tits in one hand and Darcy has to bite the inside of her cheek from making a genuinely dipshit noise. “Yes, you will suit,” Sif says, and Darcy has a moment of genuinely feeling relieved. Like she's actually some norse maiden being offered up to the gods. Kinky.

“How can I please you?” Darcy asks, batting her eyelashes.

“Curb your insolence first, little girl,” Sif says in a voice that goes straight to Darcy's libido and seriously. Seriously she's going to start dripping in a second and it's either going to be awkward or awesome...and she's actually leaning toward awesome so maybe it's all okay. And she still shuts her mouth with a clack and Sif smirks. “Now. Touch your sex.”

Mutual masturbation they've totally done before, but this is new and Darcy is okay with that because her hand is moving down before she even has time to think. And maybe, just maybe, there's a little moment of triumph at the flicker in the imposes haughtiness on Sif's face when her fingers skim over her pubes and down the line of her cunt.

“Take your pleasure,” Sif orders, and her voice is low and growled like Sif imagines she would use to command her armies. It's fucking ridiculous and sexy and Darcy will never, ever in her life be able to say that she isn't the luckiest human being alive.

She rubs two fingers against her clit and accidentally makes a little keening noise in the back of her throat. Sif''s expression turns smug as shit and Darcy has to swallow down a ridiculous moan. “That's the way of it,” Sif says, leaning over to catch Darcy's jaw in her hand and pull her into a hard, bruising kiss. “Take your pleasure now, mortal girl. I command it.”

And Darcy comes so hard she would fall over if Sif wasn't there to hold her up. She comes her fucking brains out and then Sif is kissing her like it's the last chance they'll ever have and Sif's pushing her down on the bed and pushing her legs open and taking her mouth to flesh so oversensitive Darcy sort of actually screams.

“I can't, I can't,” Darcy babbles, because there's no fucking way she's going to come again with literally dying. Except Sif looks up at her mouth, mouth shining and wet and says with perfect certainty, “I demand it, girl,” and thirty seconds of Sif's clever, wonderful, beautiful, talented tongue later Darcy's arching up off the bed wish so much force she thinks every single tendon in her body is going to snap from tension.

“Oh my fucking god, jesus christ, fucking oh my –“ Darcy gasps.

She's babbling and she knows it and seriously doesn't care. Sif crawls up beside her and stops her mouth with a kiss that suddenly gentle, tangling her fingers in Darcy's hair and stroking it away from her face. Darcy kisses back because it's all she can do and when they finally break apart, Sif's grinning at her. “Was that pleasurable?”

“Fuck you,” Darcy laughs. “You fucking know it was.”

Sif nods knowingly. “You would have made a good worshipper.”

Darcy smirks. “Give me ten minutes and I'll show you how good.”


End file.
